


growing pains

by brites



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Belly Rubs, Burping, M/M, Stomach Ache
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 16:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6336094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brites/pseuds/brites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Oikawa gets a stomach ache, Iwaizumi proves that he's capable of being gentle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	growing pains

**Author's Note:**

> the iwaoi stomachahe fic no one asked for but i personally needed  
> lots of burping in this one because i am weak for sick and burpy tooru

Practice match victories were never the same as victory at a real matches; the atmosphere was always lighter, before and after. Though it was rare for Seijoh to lose, everyone on the team always seemed much more playful, a bit more teasing after a practice victory. Iwaizumi had always chalked such behavior up to excess adrenaline, as well as the fact that a practice match held far less weight than a regular match; indeed, the only reason he had to dislike practice matches was that after a win Oikawa could always be counted on to be infuriating. 

“Don't frown, Iwa-chan,” he would hum on the bus, glancing away from his notebook with a bright grin. “Do you want to seem like a sore winner?”

“I'll show you sore,” Iwaizumi would then grumble; and if Oikawa was actually feeling brave enough to venture a second taunt _(“naughty, naughty, Iwa-chan!”)_ Iwaizumi might actually clap him on the side of the head, just to shut him up.

Gathering around the bus following their latest victory, Iwaizumi found the rest of the team in predictably high spirits. Hanamaki and Matsukawa were snickering together over something on Hanamaki’s phone; Watari was chatting brightly to Kindaichi, who looked a bit shell-shocked to be accosted so openly by one of his senpais.

The conspicuous lack of one Oikawa Tooru - a energetically smug presence Iwaizumi had grown all too used to following victories - was difficult to ignore. As his eyes scanned the rest of the team, looking for any telltale signs of Oikawa (a crowd of screaming girls, perhaps, or that weird cologne he liked to wear that smelled way too much like mint), it occurred to him that the team captain was simply nowhere to be found.

“Hey,” he called out to his fellow third years. “Have either of you seen Oikawa?”

Hanamaki shrugged, seeming much more interested in his phone; Matsukawa, at least, spared him a glance. “He was still in the locker room when I last saw him. Maybe you should check there.”

“Thanks.” Iwaizumi nodded, casting a frown back towards the doors of the school. How typical of Oikawa to waste everyone else's time just because he had to take twenty minutes fixing his hair or something equally inane. Sighing, he started into the building and made a beeline straight towards the locker rooms.

It wasn’t like Oikawa to linger so long, he thought as he pushed open the locker room door. Had Matsukawa and Hanamaki managed to “misplace’ his gym clothes again? Had he decided to take a shower and gotten distracted? The possibilities running through his head -- though he knew he was probably worrying more than he ought to - made him frown. It was almost a relief when he caught sight of the figure hunched over innocuously on one of the wooden benches, elbows braced against his knees and head bowed.

“Oi. Crappykawa,” he said, loud enough so that the head of artfully messy brown hair suddenly jerked up to look at him. Oikawa’s eyes were wide and surprised, a contrast to Iwaizumi’s own impassive expression. “We’re going to miss the bus if you stay down here any longer. Come on.”

For a moment, something strange seemed to flicker in the other boy’s face; an expression that Iwaizumi, for all his proficiency in Oikawa-isms, couldn’t read. His fine brow creased, almost seeming unable to comprehend the words for a few moments; before, somewhat tentatively, he nodded. “... sure,” he replied, and his voice came out thinner than either of them expected; promptly, he cleared, his throat, and when he spoke again there was a familiar sort of (forced) lightness to his voice. “Be right there, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi blinked. “What's the matter with you?”

“What?”

Oikawa’s skin looked pasty, slick with a sheen of sweat that Iwaizumi had originally assumed was from the game but he now suspected could have a different origin. In fact, he looked almost sickly, sitting there and all but bracing himself against his knees, blinking at Iwaizumi with every appearance of innocence. He ought to know better than to even try; Oikawa’s charades and masks had never worked on him. Iwaizumi’s frown only deepened, and he took a step closer, studying the other with sharp eyes. “Quit playing dumb. Are you okay? You have this weird look on your face -- are you sick? Did you hurt yourself during the match?”

“No, no, it's… _hmm.”_ Oikawa abruptly cut himself off, mouth clamping shut; he seemed to swallow hugely, taking a few deep breaths before speaking again. “I'm fine. I'm okay.”

Iwaizumi stared at him.

“I'm --- _okay.”_

His final word was rendered null and void when Oikawa abruptly curled in on himself, letting out a sharp gasp of pain as his arms automatically flew to wrap around his stomach. Started, Iwaizumi took a step forward, but halted when Oikawa held up his hand; after a few seconds the boy seemed to recover, looking paler but otherwise none the worse for wear. Still, Iwaizumi gaped - what had just happened?

“Okay? Seriously?” His brow creased, out of concern now instead of annoyance. “Are you?”

All pleasantness had vanished from Oikawa’s face; now he just looked tense, tired, and not at all well. “I'm fine, Iwa-chan,” he replied, and his voice was tight as a drawstring. With some effort -- for indeed, it seemed to take a few more tries than he’d expected -- he managed to push himself to his feet. “Let's -- let's go.”

Iwaizumi said nothing as Oikawa brushed past him, uncharacteristically abrasive; he barely spared him a glance, and it didn’t take a genius to see that he was hiding something. Oikawa wasn’t good at hiding his feelings; he could disguise them, cover them with glamour and make them seem completely different, but when he was affected strongly by something it was impossible for him not to show it. Iwaizumi wasn’t as careless; he had always been able to see through his long-time friend, as easily as looking through a pane of glass. He could tell that something was far from right. Uneasy eyes roved over the bench, searching for whatever it might have been that could have set Oikawa off --

“Mmmhhh!”

The muffled groan had him spinning back around, and the next thing he knew he was flat out sprinting up the stairs to where Oikawa had suddenly doubled over. One hand was grasping close-fisted at his stomach; the other gripped the railing until his knuckles steadily turned white. Iwaizumi halted for a split second, unsure of what to do or how to go about doing it, but he pushed away his concerns as Oikawa’s face twisted with pain. Tentatively, he laid a hand on the other boy’s heaving back.

“Oikawa! What's wrong? What is it?”

“I'm fine!” He exclaimed, hastily, forcing himself back up despite the pain obvious on his face. He leaned back against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds and breathing deeply; when he opened his eyes again, they were no longer clouded with pain. Iwaizumi was searching his face for an explanation; Oikawa knew it. 

“I just, my stomach, it --”

What sounded like the beginning of an ordinary round of casual brush-offs _(“my stomach hurts a bit, but it’s not that bad, I’m fine, of course I am”)_ was cut off -- either by the imploring look on Iwaizumi’s face or Oikawa’s own conscience. He seemed to wilt a bit under the other boy’s gaze, and eyes lingered briefly on the hand that just moments ago had been set upon his back. “My stomach hurts,” he admitted at last, voice flat and quiet. “Iwa-chan… that's all.”

Iwaizumi’s brow only furrowed even more deeply. “I could see if Coach has anything you could take,” he offered at once, but Oikawa shook his head.

“I'm fine,” he replied shortly, and Iwaizumi could tell that was to be the end of it.

“Okay,” he muttered, brushing all worries to the side and leading the way up the stairs once more. “Come on. Let's go.”

…..

Oikawa was greeted with the usual round of heckles from the rest of the team at his lateness upon reaching the bus; Iwaizumi was relieved that he even had the energy to stick his tongue out and Hanamaki and Matsukawa as he filed past them. But as soon as they took their seats, at the very back of the bus some distance away from the rest of the team, Oikawa slumped against the window with a limpness that caused Iwaizumi’s own stomach to churn -- with concern, rather than agony.

“Ahhh!” Oikawa’s cry of pain was muffled by the back of his hand, and he doubled over in his seat, clutching his abdomen tightly. “Ow…”

“Oikawa -” Iwaizumi swallowed thickly, his words dying in his throat as Oikawa lifted his chin to look up at him. A pale imitation of his usual teasing glint echoed in his eyes.

“So worried, Iwa-chan,” he sang, but he sounded too tired. “I'm --- _ulp.”_ Abruptly, his words cut off, mouth slamming shut and chest jumping a bit; a hand flew to cover his mouth, pressing against his lips as he dropped his head. Free of Oikawa’s unsettling gaze, Iwaizumi crossed his arms and peered over at him further.

“What's that, then?” he pressed, never one to take the word “fine” at face value -- especially with Oikawa. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Nothing. I just --”

“Just what?”

Oikawa glanced up weakly, a faint blush coloring his face and managing to take Iwaizumi aback. He seemed to swallow something back again, letting out a soft “urg,” as he did so, before his eyes drifted to bore into the seat in front of him. When he spoke, his tone was quiet enough that Iwaizumi had to strain to hear him. “I'm just having a hard time… _hrmph_ \-- keeping them… in.”

In. Did he mean… _oh._ It dawned on Iwaizumi suddenly, the way Oikawa would pause and squeeze his lips together, the way he’d press a hand to his mouth as if trying to stifle something. Of course. It was probably because of the abdominal pain -- holding back belches was undoubtedly making it worse. “Oh,” he said flatly, glancing up the aisle at the rest of their teammates; they were all a good ways away, and many had headphones in, all seeming to be absorbed in their own activities. It wasn’t like they had any better choices. “Well, look, it's a big bus. No one can hear you.”

“Mmhh…” Oikawa paused for a moments again, gulping, before shaking his head. The flush on his face grew, and it was infuriatingly adorable in the way Iwaizumi hated to admit he noticed about Oikawa. “I couldn't, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Oikawa, come on. Why are you being so stubborn if it could help you feel better?”

“It's embarrassing!”

“You're in pain!” His tone was maybe sharper than he’d meant it to be, but it got a rise out of Oikawa; carelessly, he opened his mouth to shoot back something equally venomous, but what came out instead was something even he hadn’t anticipated.

“I -- _**URRRRP!”**_

For a moment, neither of them moved; Oikawa paused, wide eyed, mouth still slightly agape and face rapidly turning the color of an overripe cherry. Iwaizumi’s eyes widened too, brows raising -- though whether he was more shocked or impressed by such a display he couldn’t have said. Certainly, neither of them had been expecting such a thing; and in the heat of his embarrassment, Oikawa’s head fell as he said the one thing he could think of.

“… e-excuse me.”

Iwaizumi blinked several times in succession, not quite sure what to say. Finally: “Do you feel any better?”

“A little,” Oikawa admitted grudgingly, still not quite meeting his eyes; irritated at his stubbornness, Iwaizumi quickly tilted his chin so that he was looking at him again. Really. It was just a couple of burps -- nothing to be so embarrassed about.

“Then go on.”

Oikawa stared at him for a long moment, wide eyed and red faced; then, somewhat tentatively, he pulled his chin away from Iwaizumi’s grip and leaned forward slightly, allowing his mouth to open.

“... I… ULPP! Ohh…. URRRP!” He didn’t even have to try; wet, sick belches slipped out of their own accord, each one leaving Oikawa breathless and slightly dazed. He almost looked as if he were going to throw up, Iwaizumi mused; when Oikawa suddenly went stiff, squeezing his eyes shut and grasping for his friend’s arm, a jolt of alarm had Iwaizumi sitting up straight.

“I- Iwa-chan, my stomach ---”

Automatically, Iwaizumi’s hands moved to rest on Oikawa’s stomach, brushing the other’s own arms aside; as his fingers slipped beneath his slightly lifted shirt and ran over smooth skin, he was unsurprised to find that the muscles in Oikawa’s stomach were cramped, constricted and painful.

“It's all tight. You're cramped up, and you probably have a lot of excess gas that you need to get out. Are --” He stopped, noticing the way Oikawa’s eyes had momentarily fluttered closed at the touch; somewhat baffled, he adjusted his hands slightly. “Does that… feel good?”

“Y- yeah…” The other boy keened fraily. “Stay there a minute?”

“Jeez…” Iwaizumi muttered, but he obliged all the same. Gently, his fingers began to rub a pattern into Oikawa’s tight muscles, and almost immediately another burp slipped from his mouth, this one somehow even louder than the rest.

“Uhh…” He groaned after catching his breath again, slumping to the side to lean heavily against Iwaizumi’s shoulder. If the flushed, somewhat dazed look on his face was anything to go by, he may not have even realized he was doing it; Iwaizumi tensed anyway. 

“Iwa-chan…” breathed Oikawa out of barely parted lips, and Iwaizumi noted in alarm the slight cleft in his chin that usually only appeared when he was on the verge of crying. “I- I'm so disgusting.”

“No you aren't.” Iwaizumi snorted derisively, glancing up towards the front of the bus once more. Somewhat surprisingly, no one else seemed to have taken notice of anything that was going on, and Iwaizumi couldn’t help but be grateful. “No one's even looking back at us.”

“R-really?” Oikawa’s voice trembled slightly.

“Yeah… everything's fine.”

Suddenly he tensed again, spine stiffening and fingers digging into Iwaizumi’s muscular forearm as another sharp cramp coursed through his body. “Iwa-chan, it hurts -!”

“Shhh…” Gently, Iwaizumi resumed his pattern of massaging Oikawa’s stomach; acutely aware of how intimate this was, he pushed the thought aside firmly. This wasn’t erotic at all; Oikawa was in pain, and he was helping him. That was just what a friend would do for another friend; and as much as he annoyed him sometimes, Oikawa was still his best friend. “Here, is this better?”

“ _UUUULP!_ Mmm… y-yeah.” Oikawa’s eyes fluttered shut; he still leaned heavily against Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Iwaizumi blinked down at the top of his friend’s head; this close, he could smell the fruity scent of Oikawa’s shampoo. The setter’s entire body was tense and limp at once, exhaustion making his limbs heavy and eyelids difficult to keep open; Iwaizumi swallowed before gently, carefully resting his chin on top of his best friend’s head.

“Iwa-chan…” Oikawa’s voice was thin, lacking practically all of it’s characteristic candyfloss sweetness that was both so annoying and so uniquely him. “Am I your pillow now, hmm?”

“Shut it,” Iwaizumi muttered, and he could feel Oikawa’s back heave slightly in silent laughter before he fell still once more, with a shaky sigh. He was still in pain; beneath his hands, Iwaizumi felt Oikawa’s stomach cramp up again, and his friend pressed back against him with a soft moan.

“Hurts…”

Iwaizumi closed his own eyes, then, fingers massaging a steady rhythm into Oikawa’s tense abdomen. He provided what little relief he could offer, until gradually his friend sagged against him; it took Iwaizumi a few moments to realize that Oikawa had fallen asleep. Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, he sighed and continued his ministrations, propping the other boy up just a bit more securely as he did so. He didn't resent it -- he wasn't any saint, but even was capable of sympathy when his best friend was so obviously ill. 

Even after the bus had stopped in front of the school once more, and Mattsun and Makki were amusing themselves taking photos of "Sleeping Beauty and his dashing knight", Iwaizumi didn't do much more than glare. At the very least, Oikawa's pain seemed to have alleviated with sleep; Iwaizumi would rather have a drowsy Oikawa than an agonized one any day. After all, they were best friends; who was he is he didn't step up to the plate when Oikawa was too stubborn to admit that he needed him?


End file.
